The Warmth
by duos-deathscythe
Summary: Rick and Daryl are in a car accident while on a run in the snow. Lightly injured, they find a place to hole up for the night and wait for the storm to pass. Rick x Daryl. PW(ith)P, M x M.


**Title:** The Warmth

**By:** duosdeathscythe

**Summary:** Rick and Daryl are in a car accident while on a run in the snow. Lightly injured, they find a place to hole up and wait for the storm to pass.

**Pairing:** Rick x Daryl

**Warnings**: Language, two dudes getting it on...uh...sex? It's PWP with...kind of...a plot. If you squint.

**AN**: Second fic in years, first Walking Dead fic ever. This fic is beta'd by a good friend (and ex boyfriend, believe it or not :P) of mine, Kevin. Oh, and he also helped me with the title. As with Centerfold, I was wanting to keep it along the "song title" theme I have going on and boy, did he have some suggestions that had me fucking ROLLING! Here are his ideas, in order, before he even beta'd the fic: "Doughnut for a Snowman", "Winter Wonderland", "Angel in the Snow", "Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire", "Here Comes the Sun", and "Gonna Make You Sweat". I think he is more excited about this than I am! XD

I finally settled on titling this "The Warmth", by: Incubus.

Aaand Kevin beta'd the first part but not the second part. Not for lack of wanting to but for lack of him not being online and I am an impatient woman. So blame him for the pre sex stuff, blame me for the sex stuff. Or just blame him for all of it, he's not here to defend himself. :P

I found this website, too, that had a bunch of "neutral" plot bunnies:  page/27

I don't know how to navigate tumbler, I don't want to say "THIS person made this!" and put the wrong name on here, so I just linked the whole page. Eventually I wouldn't mind filling them all on here. This fic is from the plot idea number one. :D

Oh and eventually I hope to post art for this fic up, like I did with Centerfold.

Hope you guys enjoy.

**The Warmth**

"Here's the rest of the shirts. Anything else?" Daryl asks, dropping his armful of tees into the sack that Rick holds open.

Testing its weight, the ex-cop rests the bag on the dirty tile floor to check at the list in his breast pocket. Most of the items are already in their possession, either safely in the car from previous stores or stuffed away in the bag. With winter on them in full-force, the evidence of such raging outside in the form of a blizzard, the two of them had ventured out on an emergency supply run. They severely underestimated the chill of the storm that came, taking all of them by surprise, and if it weren't the adults shivering beneath the layers of blankets that spurred them into action it was the blue tint to little Judith's lips. Unfortunately, they've already taken all of the blankets that can be found nearby...now they are resorting to regular clothes to pile on themselves.

"Cotton balls." Rick answers, crumpling the paper back up into his pocket.

"Cotton balls." Daryl confirms with a nod, shifting the weight of his crossbow and leading the way to the health and beauty aisle.

They step over debris, careful to avoid spilled soap and shampoo on the floor. The hunter grabs a couple of bags in mid stride, twisting to toss them at Rick as if making a goal. The first one misses-he didn't expect the gesture-but snatches the second in midair, stuffing it into place with the clothes. He then bends over to pick the other one up.

"This is it, for now. Just hope it helps."

"Can't hurt." Daryl offers, staring at his leader from beneath long bangs.

Rick nods, tight-lipped, and pats him on the shoulder as he walks by him towards the door. They have less than an hour left of sunlight, maybe, and most of that is going to be spent driving back to the prison. If they even make it back before dark; it will be close. As soon as the doors to the store are open they are pummeled by wind and snow. They move quickly to load the car up with the last bit of loot and rush inside, slamming the doors behind them as they plop down into the seats.

"Get this heat going." Rick says to himself, unable to stop the shiver that runs through his body as he starts the car.

Daryl is immediately putting his hands up to the vents, rubbing them together to warm up. It doesn't take much time for the heat to rise, the car having not been turned off for too long.

"Buckle up." Rick reminds him, fastening his own seat belt.

Daryl gives him an incredulous look before complying. Once a cop, always a cop. He fastens up before Rick takes off, pulling out of the parking lot with extra care for the harsh conditions. It's gotten worse out since they left the prison a few hours ago and it's not like there are salt trucks out to make their trek easier. Much like their trip out, the first part of their drive back is spent in silence.

As always, Rick is the first to break it, "Think this is the worst winter I've seen in years."

"Only heat we had growing up was a fireplace. All of them felt about like this, really." Daryl replies without missing a beat, staring out of his window at the blur of white around them.

He can see the sympathetic look Rick gives him through his reflection in the glass and sighs, rubbing a hand through damp hair before meeting his gaze.

"You don't have to look at me like that."

Rick, embarrassed, turns back to the road. Daryl begins chewing on this thumb.

After a few minutes, Rick looks at him again, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it."

Daryl nods, gesturing forward, "It's okay. Best start paying attent-"

Before the words even fully leave his mouth the car lurches, swerving to the left before whipping to the right, the sound of wet tires screeching over frozen asphalt frightening to their ears. The car does a half circle on the road as it hits dirt and dips, Daryl's side crashing into the earth as Rick's careens into the air. The vehicle flips onto it's roof and they are vaguely aware of the sound of crunching metal and shattering glass as they both lose consciousness.

§§§§§§§§§§

He is very, very cold. That is the first thing that Rick comes to realize as he opens his eyes. The second is that he is upside down. Then he feels the pain. Memories of what happened hits him full force and he looks around frantically to look for Daryl, slightly disoriented, but altogether relieved to see the vague outline of the other man in what's left of the fading light.

"Daryl?" he chokes, reaching over to shake the hunter.

God, his head is pounding.

"Daryl!" he tries again, louder.

Daryl jerks awake with a gasp and a groan and Rick can't put a label to the amount of relief he feels course through him.

"You alright?" he asks, working to release himself from the seat belt holding him up.

He is afraid to think of what would have happened if they'd not been wearing them.

Daryl makes another pained sound, turning his head a couple of times before finally stopping in Rick's direction, "Fucking cold. Hurts...you?"

"I'm okay...think I hit some ice. I can't undo my belt, can you get to your knife?"

Rick hears Daryl curse when he moves, wiggling around to reach the weapon sheathed at his side. It takes a couple of attempts but they both exhale a withheld breath as the blade is brandished. The redneck slices himself free and eases down, careful not to fall onto the ceiling. Frankly it would be embarrassing to die of a broken neck from falling after surviving a car accident in a blizzard in the apocalypse. After righting himself he sets to work cutting off Rick's seat belt, helping the ex cop right himself as well.

"Keep an eye out. Don't know how long it's been...if any walkers are nearby." Rick advises, pausing before forcing his door open.

It doesn't want to open all the way, but just enough to slip out of. Mindful of the broken glass hiding in the snow, Rick has to crawl out of the wreckage on his hands and knees with Daryl following right behind him, cradling one arm to his chest. By the time they are free their clothes are soaked and both are chilled to the bone, shivering violently and staring at the wreckage with one common thought: what are we going to do?

"We can't make it back to the prison before dark. Got to find a place to rest for the night." Rick speaks first and begins kicking at the back window.

They need to get what supplies they can, especially items to keep warm, and find reprieve from the storm. Daryl crawls back inside to retrieve his crossbow and the few items he can grab from the back, tossing them out into the snow while still favoring that right arm. The duffels are all piled up in no time and the two men load up and begin walking back the way they came.

"Remember seeing a couple of houses." Rick tells him, nearly having to yell over the wind.

Daryl doesn't acknowledge him at all, simply keeping his head down and pushing his body forward with one foot in front of the other just behind his leader. With inches of ice and snow beneath their boots, it makes walking in the storm extremely difficult. The layers they wore from the prison does little to keep the biting cold from nipping at them and it doesn't take long at all for their faces to go numb from the cold. It's a miserable feeling, one that Rick begins to fear will be their last, until he spots the familiar vinyl siding of a house, looming at them as a dark spot in the sea of endless white. With one glance back to make sure that Daryl is still behind him, Rick leads them in that direction.

He stops on the porch just in front of the main door, grateful that they are at least somewhat protected against the biting wind, "We'll stick together, search the rooms at once. You hold the light and I'll take care of any walkers. If it gets messy, then step in, alright?"

Daryl nods curtly, the flashlight in his left hand shaking uncontrollably. Rick nods back before testing the doorknob, grateful when it opens without any problems. Daryl shines the flashlight into the first room-the living area-quickly before they step inside and close the door behind them, locking it. The house is by no means warmer than it is outside but at least they have protection from the storm. They drop their supplies to the floor beside the door, making minimal noise and pausing to listen for any signs of life-or unlife-from deep within the house.

So far, nothing. Rick leads the way into the adjacent kitchen with Daryl providing the only source of light, python at the ready for any trouble. The kitchen and dining room are clear, cabinets and fridge door standing wide open and void of any useful food items. A hallway extends from the living room with five doors branching off into three bedrooms, a closet, and a bathroom. All are free of walkers and looters, albeit messy, much to their relief.

They take their moment of reprieve to look over one another, taking in any wounds from the accident. Rick has a few cuts on his face and a stiff neck and knee but other than that is fine. Daryl sports his fair share of cuts as well from the shattered glass but what worries Rick most is the cradled arm.

"You going to be okay?" he asks, gesturing to the limb.

"Yeah...might be sprained. Hurts like a bitch but it don't feel broken."

"Good. I hate to say this, I'll be real honest with you about it, I'm even a little embarrassed to suggest it, but...we need to shed these wet clothes and get warmed up. Don't think it'd be a smart idea to build a fire in a room like this, in case we doze off. Might need to just lay down together and wrap up in anything we can get our hands on." Rick suggests, "We can check the other rooms for more things to cover up with."

"Alright." Daryl agrees without complaint, taking charge and exiting the room.

The blankets are long gone with the food but whoever had been here didn't feel the need to pack away all of the clothes and towels, thank God. Rick lets Daryl pile the items up into his arms, one room at a time, not leaving anything out that can be used in their plight. They feel like they hit the jackpot when they discover a lone fitted sheet left behind, forgiving of the questionable stain on it's surface that is long dried. Beggars can't be choosers. They drop their haul onto the floor of their designated room and lock the door behind them.

Rick watches Daryl set the flashlight down on the bedside table along with his knife and takes one of the towels to jam it tightly against the slight opening at the bottom of the bedroom door to help seal in their miniscule amount of heat. He gives the same treatment to the adjacent bathroom door and when he turns back around he sees Rick spreading the sheet over the surface of the mattress. He proceeds to help him unfold and lay out both the clothes found in the house and in the stores from before, layering them up on one another for extra warmth. Once the task is complete, save for a couple pairs of shirts and shorts that they can only hope will fit, Rick immediately begins shedding his wet clothes. They hit the carpet with a wet 'plop'.

It's almost adorable how Daryl lowers his eyes and turns around to give him privacy. Rick's never been shy, being best friends with Shane before the zombie apocalypse made sure of that, so he thinks nothing of it to toss his underwear to the floor as well. He snatches one of the tees, white with a Santa Cruz Banana Slugs logo on the front, and slips it on with a pair of blue basketball shorts. He climbs into the bed and places his python on his own nightstand before making a show of pulling the mass of cloth over his head to give Daryl the same privilege. It takes a few seconds but he eventually hears the telltale sounds of wet clothes hitting the floor again and the rustle of Daryl putting on something dry.

He slips into the bed beside him and reaches up to turn the flashlight off before getting comfortable. At least, as comfortable as either of them can get. They lay back to back, still shivering in the dark and listening to the blizzard rage on outside. It's Rick who finally sighs and rolls over, shifting to press his front against Daryl's back and rest an arm over his waist. The hunter's only reaction is a quick jerk, barely distinguished from the shivering.

Rick suddenly chuckles, unconsciously squeezing the other closer to him, "Is that a flashlight or are you just happy to see me?"

Daryl snickers, "Shut up. It's a weapon, ain't it?"

"So is your knife."

"Yeah well, I ain't sleeping with a knife without a pillow."

"Probably a good idea."

That is the extent of their conversation and the room is suddenly quiet again, save for the storm. It doesn't take long for the shivering to slow off and sleep to claim the pair.

§§§§§§§§§§

Rick isn't sure what wakes him up at first. It's still dark outside and the wind is still blowing, but he's sure that something-

Daryl makes a sound in his sleep, the faintest of moans and a quick movement: a jerk of his hips and it isn't a shiver from the cold either. They are laying exactly like how they were before they dozed off, with Rick spooning Daryl and his arm wrapped around him, only a little more snug together than either of them would have dared to try while conscious. On the bright side, Rick isn't nearly as cold as he was before-

Daryl interrupts Rick's musings when he makes another one of those sounds and jerks once again, grinding himself back against Rick and squirming with a flex of his legs. Rick's breath hitches in his throat, nearly a hiccup when he feels his body react instinctively to the unexpected friction. He knows that the material of the shorts can't be hiding his hard-on all that well. He has to stifle a groan when Daryl moves again, rubbing his ass against him and oh, fuck, surely he can't still be asleep through all of this. He feels a shiver surge down his spine and know it's not from the cold.

What should he do? He can't just wake Daryl up and let him feel his rock-hard dick pressing against him...even if he was the one to get the blood flowing. Growing up with Shane never prepared him for something like this. But Jesus, it's been so long...too long since his body has reacted like this to anyone. Even when Lori had still been alive, it wasn't since the camp outside of Atlanta that-

"Mmm, Rick..."

Rick chokes, heat flaring into his cheeks when he begins coughing violently at having accidentally inhaled his own saliva. The jarring movements combined with the choking heaves is plenty enough to wake Daryl up though, Daryl who shoots up in the bed and has the flashlight on and pointed frantically around the room before realizing where the noises are coming from and calms down. The light is directed upwards, out of contact with their eyes, as Daryl waits patiently for Rick to calm his spasm down. At least he doesn't have to worry about his erection anymore.

"You okay?"

Rick nods, not trusting himself to speak just yet, but catches sight of the tent in Daryl's shorts after their mass of sheet and clothes was thrown off. He can't help but stare, the full force of what exactly Daryl had been dreaming of hitting him like a ton of bricks. Daryl catches on quickly to where Rick's attention is and he covers himself up, mortified, and curls away with his back facing him.

"Fuck, man, I'm sorry." he says quietly and, as if changing his mind, starts to get up.

Rick grabs at his uninjured wrist, "Wait. Stop...it's still cold. Come on, it's alright, lay back down. You'll freeze to death."

His voice is raspy from his fit. Daryl doesn't move, doesn't even look at him, and he wonders if the other man is just going to yank his arm free and leave anyway. There is no denying the flutter in his loins when Daryl settles back down into the bed, still facing away from him, coiling tightly in on himself. Rick licks his lips, knowing that his next action can greatly impact their friendship in more ways than one. He turns the flashlight off, reaching over Daryl to lay it back down in front of him, and keeps his arm wound around his trim waist.

Daryl is tense, too tense to be able to go back to sleep.

"Hey, it's alright." Rick tries to comfort him, running his fingers lightly along his bicep, "You can relax."

His words do nothing to ease Daryl's rigidity so he keeps rubbing, hoping to calm the hunter down. They lay there in silence for what feels like forever and it doesn't take long for Rick's mind to go back to what happened only moments ago. He's never been with a man before in his entire life, though like every teenager, the thought of being with someone of the same sex did cross his mind at one point. Of course at the time he'd thought of Shane with his perversions but those ideas fled when Lori had come along. And after he'd discovered they'd had an affair, the thought of either person was like bile on his tongue.

But Daryl...Daryl has proven himself time and time again to be better than Shane ever was as a friend, as a partner. After Hershel's farm fell and Rick appointed himself dictator of the group, Daryl was right there by his side to help lead them on, carrying out any and all orders given without a second thought. That kind of loyalty hadn't gone unnoticed to Rick and it didn't take long for him to consider that he could trust this man, wholly and completely, like he had once trusted Shane. After Lori died and he helped keep Judith alive while he'd fallen off the deep end, there had been no doubt in his mind at all.

Just like there is no doubt in his mind when he shifts even closer to Daryl and begins trailing soft kisses at the back of his neck. Daryl gasps at the sudden sensation, tensing up even more if possible.

"Relax. It's alright." he soothes, whispering the repeated words by the redneck's ear.

He feels the blood rush south once again, feels himself harden and pushes forward, rubbing himself against Daryl's lower back. The younger man gasps and arches, grinding his ass firmly against Rick's cock without thought. That elicits a growl from the ex cop and he wraps his arm back around Daryl's waist to pull him even tighter against himself, trailing kisses along his trapezius to his jaw. Rick pushes himself up on an elbow for a better angle, smiling to himself when Daryl rolls onto his back and bares his neck even further. His hand slips beneath the hem of Daryl's shirt, pausing his kisses just before reaching his lips.

"So tell me...what were you dreaming about, hm?"

Daryl only moans, Rick's fingers like liquid fire as they glide over the skin of his abdomen to ghost over a nipple.

"Fuck, Rick..."

Rick's not sure if the other man hears him but gives him the benefit of the doubt. He presses their lips together, switching between the others nipples until they are like pebbles under his touch. Daryl gasps into the kiss and reaches up with his left hand to cup Rick's cheek, smoothing over his beard to the back of his neck where he pulls the other closer. The taller man complies without resistance and probes his mouth with his tongue, asking for entrance without words. Daryl lets him in, meeting him with his own in fervor.

Rick swallows Daryl's moan, feels the hand leave his neck to grasp at his shoulder and squeeze at the sleeve of his shirt in a white-knuckled grip. He bends his knees, bringing his legs up on either side of Rick's body and raises his hips desperately against the other. Rick pulls away when he feels Daryl rub their cocks together through the thin material of their shorts, gazing at him in the darkness even though he can't see him. But he can feel him staring back, feel the others heart pounding. He takes a deep breath and leans in slow to give Daryl a softer kiss before resting their foreheads together, trying to calm his racing heart.

"...Rick?"

Hearing his name like that, in that deep southern drawl, laced with a primal want and need. Desperate yet uncertain. Maybe even a little fearful.

"Daryl...I've got to know, before we go any further. Do you, for sure, want this? Know what this is going to mean?"

There is a moment of silence between them, broken only by the wind whistling outside and Daryl's heavy breathing beneath him. He feels the rise and fall of the others chest against his own, feels the slightest twitches of the muscled thighs that beg to wrap around him. But he can't go on, not until he hears it from the man writhing against him.

"Rick...just shut up and kiss me again." comes the whispered words and that is all Rick needs.

He shrugs the sheet off of his shoulders, not even registering the cold, and pulls the shirt off over his head before leaning back in to resume where he left off. He catches Daryl's lips into another heated kiss as the other pulls him in with those legs, icy fingers reaching out to trace the dips of his ribs. Rick brings his mouth to his throat, growling when Daryl circles his arms snugly around his neck to draw him closer. His kisses turn into bites and it's no time before Daryl is putty beneath him, gasping in whimpered breaths, shuddering with the sensations and uncaring if a mark is left behind from Rick's ministrations. They rut shamelessly against one another through their shorts, panting and moaning, no sort of rhyme or reason to their movements: only what feels good to them and to the other.

Daryl pulls Rick back with a hand in his hair, breathing heavily, returning the sensations with his own nips at the taller man's Adam's apple. Rick doesn't move, just holds himself up with one arm, the other trailing down Daryl's stomach to tease at the waistband of his red shorts as the hunter ravages his throat. His fingers snake around, dragging dirty nails over sensitive skin, disappearing under the shorts to squeeze at his ass. Daryl pauses only to hiss, growling himself before resuming his passionate kissing. Their tongues battle for dominance as Daryl works to shove Rick's shorts down, freeing his bobbing erection and taking it in his hand.

Rick throws his head back and nearly screams, the sensation of another person's touch on his cock something he truly figured he would never feel again. At least, not for a long, long time. Especially not a man's touch. But those thoughts are quickly removed from his mind when Daryl attempts to shimmy down a little bit, guiding Rick to bring his hips closer to his face so that he may take him into his mouth. The ex cop doesn't even care how Daryl knows how to do what he does with his tongue.

The warm wetness is almost enough to make him cum but he fights it back the best he can, wanting this to last as long as possible. Feeling wanted, feeling someone touch him like this, feeling those lips around him...he doesn't want it to end, not anytime soon, not ever. He pushes Daryl's head further into the mattress, hearing him choke on his length with a sick sense of satisfaction. Daryl doesn't complain, if he is even able to, but doesn't try to push him off, instead pausing for just a moment before resuming a steady rhythm with his hands holding on to his ass, drawing him in to meet him with each movement. Rick brings a hand down, twisting it into Daryl's long hair, pulling him even closer as he fucks his mouth for just a moment before pulling out and away, shifting to give the younger man another kiss.

"Daryl...I want to be inside of you...I want to cum inside of you..." he pants, kissing along the other's jawline.

Daryl moans, thrusting up with his hips against Rick before realizing he isn't going to continue on until he says something and he whimpers, "I want you inside of me, Rick, please..."

Rough fingertips brush against his lips and Daryl opens up to allow them entry, knowing what Rick is wanting and he sucks on them, licks them, to get them good and wet as the other deftly removed his shorts for good. Once satisfied with the amount of saliva coating them, Rick shifts to place them at Daryl's entrance, slipping one digit in first to stretch that tight hole enough for a second. Daryl squirms, mewls, tightening his muscles around the invasion when it proves to feel most delicious. Rick sits back on his knees, working at Daryl's pale blue shirt with one hand without pausing the other, removing the inhibiting garment with Daryl's own help and tossing it to the floor. He works his middle finger inside with his index and begins a scissor motion, one that must hit his prostate, for Daryl arches back and screams in pleasure.

Cupping his cheek, Rick takes to kissing him again, not able to get enough of his taste, to feel those sounds he elicits reverberate in his own mouth. Their tongues meet again and Rick shudders when those lips wrap around his tongue, mimicking the younger man's actions from before, and pulls away tantalizingly slow only to lean back in and take his bottom lip between his teeth. Rick responds by adding a third finger, growling deep in his throat when Daryl pushes himself against them, to feel them deeper. But it's when he feels him start to play with his nipples does Rick decide that he has had as much as he can stand. Daryl whines when the fingers are removed and Rick brings the hand up to his mouth to lick, coating it in saliva to transfer to his own pulsing cock.

He makes sure to be well lubricated before shifting Daryl's legs up onto his shoulders, lifting his hips up slightly to line himself up with his entrance. He pushes in slowly, his own mouth open in a silent scream when his head slips inside, and oh, he just fucking wishes he could see the expression on Daryl's face as he slowly, slowly glides himself inside. He doesn't hear any cries of pain, simply the sound of hitching breath and heavy breathing, the redneck's fingernails digging into his left forearm but not pushing him away. It's all the encouragement Rick needs to fill Daryl to the hilt, halting the coveted movement of his lower half to lean in and nuzzle the other's cheek with his own. Daryl is panting beneath him, tense, holding him as close as humanly possible with his legs in the way.

Rick feels a warmth spread in his chest when Daryl turns his head, searching for a few awkward moments to find his lips before pressing them together softly, a kiss unlike any they shared before and Rick only has one fleeting thought before Daryl takes the initiative to begin moving his hips: Maybe this can be something more? Using his one good arm more than his legs, Daryl moves his body around Rick's shaft, a steady and deep pace that doesn't take long for Rick to catch up to and meet with every thrust. He slips Daryl's legs off of his shoulders to settle them around his waist, allowing the other more control to move how he knows he wants to. Daryl doesn't let him down, flexing his legs and tightening them around Rick's body to pull him lose and relaxing to let him ease back for another thrust, which he meets every time, guiding him to that sweet spot deep inside of him that causes stars to explode in his vision whenever it's nudged. If Daryl wasn't wailing before, he sure does when Rick wrap's a slicked hand around his pulsing cock.

The howl is animalistic and it turns Rick on even more, the driving force that has him consciously hitting his prostate every time, working his dick with his other hand and thumbing Daryl's cheek as he kisses him with every bit of longing, want, and fire he feels tearing him up from the inside out. He knows neither of them will last long, not at the rate they are going now, and it's over for him when he feels Daryl flick at his nipples, the sensation sending a lightning bolt of pure ecstasy down his stomach and straight to his loins and his body spams in its own volition, trembling uncontrollably as he releases his seed deep into Daryl's warmth. The sensation is nearly enough to cause him to forget about his hand on Daryl's cock and he begins pumping again with renewed vigor, not realizing he had even stopped, and it's just enough that Daryl is getting off as well, his body flexing and convulsing in the throes of pleasure as he cums all over the two of them, his cries of pure unadulterated euphoria muffled by Rick's lips on his own. The ex cop moves his hips until the fine line between that after-orgasm pleasure and ticklish discomfort is crossed, milking himself and Daryl for all either of them are worth before collapsing, impervious to the sweat and spunk squished between them. It's not long before the two feel the cold of the night air around them and Rick pulls out, moving to adjust the sheet and clothes around them once again.

They lay there beneath the bulk, panting and sweating, sticky from Daryl's seed yet uncaring of the world around them. Rick lays his head on the hunter's chest, listening to his heartbeat gradually slow down, tightening his arms that are bent at Daryl's flank. The younger man lays relaxed beneath him, injured right arm relaxed on his back and his left lazily toying with his dark, curly locks.

"You alright?" Rick breaks the silence without moving, so exhausted and satisfied that he can't even bring himself to open his eyes.

Daryl's sigh is one of content and he leans forward to press a kiss against Rick's forehead, "Yeah...you...?"

Rick hums his own fulfillment, snuggling more into the warmth of his lover, "I am more alright now than I have been in a while."

"Good."

The combing of his hair doesn't stop, the sensation relaxing and soothing enough to lull Rick to sleep with one last thought crossing his mind, that there is nothing in the world that can take the feel of this moment away from them, the bitter cold chased away by the warmth inside of them, the warmth that they share for each other.

§§§§§§§§§§

End

AN: Well? Tell me what you guys think, please!

...constructively, please!

I feel so awkward writing sex scenes. 8(

Oh...and the clothes they change into are a direct ripoff of Jules and Vincent after Vincent shoots Marvin in the face in Pulp Fiction. XD


End file.
